


Race VS The Hot RA

by papesdontsellthemselves



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:47:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25236418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papesdontsellthemselves/pseuds/papesdontsellthemselves
Summary: Or the few times Race pined after the hot RA and the time the RA pined back.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	Race VS The Hot RA

**Author's Note:**

> i posted this on tumblr ages ago and just rediscovered this and i'm missing college right now so here i am,,,,posting it

1.

“This is BULLSHIT.”

Race takes out an earbud and stares, mildly alarmed, at the bathroom door of their suite. Abruptly, the shower shuts off, despite having been on for all of thirty seconds and a moment later, Spot emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist, shivering hard enough to rival a chihuahua left out in front of a grocery store in the rain. He looks angry, scowling hard enough to bare his teeth and eyes narrowed in a way that would probably be murderous if he didn’t also look entirely pathetic. 

Race quirks an amused eyebrow, “Everything okay?”

“No,” Spot growls, “there’s no fucking hot water.”

Race frowns, “Like, none?”

“Yes, Race,” Now Race can see the goosebumps that line Spot’s arms and notes with faint concern that his lips look a little blue, “None. Like, it’s fucking Antarctica in that fucking shower. I feel like Steve Rogers after he crashed that fucking plane into the Arctic.”

“Shit, that’s not good.”

Spot scoffs, giving him a ‘no shit’ look and crosses to his drawer to pull out a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

“Maybe too many people are using the showers?” Race suggests, “and like, maybe the hot water got all used up. That happens sometimes at home.”

“Don’t think it works like that,” Spot says, padding back towards the bathroom, “M’pretty sure this place operates more like a hotel, so lack of hot water shouldn’t be an issue. Can you go let the RA know something’s wrong with the plumbing?”

Race’s stomach drops, face coloring a bit at the thought of talking to Albert, their engineering SLO’s attractive resident’s assistant. Like Race and Spot, he’s a junior, but this was Race’s first year living in the engineering housing, so he hadn’t seen him around before. Which was weird considering they should have at least had a freshman seminar together or something of the sort. 

But nope. On upperclassmen move in day, Race was completely blindsided by the pretty redhead coming around to the dorms, introducing himself with a disarmingly charming smile and an overly peppy, “If you ever need anything, I’m in 311b!”

Which was unfair, really, because naturally, Race had to see Albert fairly often at various floor events and as smooth as he’d like to believe he is, Albert made him basically incoherent.

And Spot knows that.

So, fuck Spot.

“Can’t you go tell him?” Race calls, trying not to sound pathetic but missing that mark by miles.

“No!” Spot shouts back, still sounding irritated, “I got class soon, dude, stop being a pussy and go!”

Race groans, steeling himself for a moment before pushing himself up from his desk and crossing towards the door, stopping at the bathroom to yell a quick, “I hate you!” at Spot before exiting and ambling down the hall towards Albert’s single. The sign outside Albert’s door says that he’s on duty, so he knocks twice and bounces on his toes while he waits, stomach swooping when he hears a, “Just a sec!” from inside the room.

A second later, Albert opens the door, looking relaxed in a pair of running shorts and long sleeved shirt, feet tucked into a fluffy pair of moccasins. The outfit is stupid and entirely adorable and Race has to forcably log his brain back online. By the time he’s gotten a grip on himself, he realizes that Albert was saying something and is now looking at him with a mildly concerned and expectant smile on his face.

“Shit, sorry,” Race stammers, “What?”

The easy smile doesn’t drop, but an almost knowing glint flashes through Albert’s eyes, “I just asked what’s up. Everything okay?”

“Oh,” Race feels himself blush, “Yeah, no, the hot water’s just fucked in our bathroom. Thought I should let you know.”

“Ah, fuck,” Even disgruntled, Albert looks easy-going. It’s unfair really. For someone majoring in astrophysics, Albert always looks entirely too relaxed, “Yeah, Mush came to me earlier about that. I called in a ‘fix-it’ and they said someone should be coming to look at it around 5 o’clock. Sorry, though. I know cold showers are fucking awful.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Race says, “Spot was the one who got the brunt of it, not me.”

“Bet he was thrilled,” Albert says, “Kid’s a ray of sunshine.”

Albert even manages to make biting sarcasm sound entirely welcome. Race isn’t convinced he doesn’t have super powers or something.

“Yeah, he was super chill about it,” Race plays along, “Kindly asked me to let you know and everything.”

“Mhm, I’m sure.”

There’s a small lapse of silence and Race starts to feel the nerves in his stomach come back, suddenly overwhelmed again by Albert’s alluring nature. He’s about to turn and leave when Albert opens his door wider.

“You wanna come in for a bit?” He asks, “Was just making some ramen if you’re interested.”

“Oh,” Race’s heart soars for a second before dropping again, “Fuck, I’d love to, but I can’t,” Albert’s face falls a fraction and Race tries not to read too deep into _that_ , “I have to finish studying for that astro 212 exam.”

Albert lights up again, “Oh! I gotta study for that, too. We can study together? If you want, I mean. Like, you totally don’t have to if you, like, study better alone or something, I just thought it might be fun to-”

“Albert,” Race cuts him off, feeling oddly elated to see Albert flustered for once, “No, that’s perfect. I’d love to eat ramen and study with you, just give me a minute to go grab my notes.”

“Sweet!” Albert says, smiling again, “I’ll keep my door open, so just come on in whenever!”

Race gives him a thumbs up and tries not to run back to his room. Once he’s inside, it’s a mad dash to grab his things, cursing as he drops his graphing calculator twice. He doesn’t even notice Spot on the floor, tying his shoes, until he laughs.

“Got a hot study date?” He quips.

“No,” Race says, “Shut up. RAs aren’t technically allowed to date residents.”

Spot holds up his hands in the universal sign of surrender, “Rules can be bent.”

Race rolls his eyes, rushing back out of the room.

2.

Race fucking hates calculus. Well, actually, that’s a lie. He fucking loves calculus. Numbers have always made sense to him, theorems and equations melding into one beautiful web of logic that always pulled him into a comfortable rhythm. But right now, surface integrals were fucking him in the ass. 

Which is why he’s holed up in the library on a Sunday morning, staving off a wicked hangover and trying not to vomit as he stares dejectedly at his textbook, praying that the words on the page will magically make sense. Sighing probably too dramatically, he pulls his notebook towards himself and copies down another problem, working through it at a snail’s pace before checking the answer in the back of the book…

...And it’s wrong. Again. Fuck.

He groans, dropping his head down and thumping it a few times against the table. It makes his head hurt worse, so he stops, inwardly reviewing all the ways he’s a fucking dumbass who shouldn’t be in college, because college is _hard_. 

And fuck multivariable calculus.

_Just kidding, sorry,_ Race thinks, _I love you, multivar._

“Doing okay?” 

Race looks up too fast, groaning again at the movement. Albert’s hovering across the table from him, backpack slung on his back and iced coffee in hand, an amused smirk resting on his face. He looks entirely too awake for 10 am on a Sunday, but then again he wasn’t drinking last night. 

“Depends,” Race answers, apparently too hungover to be too affected by Albert’s presence, “Are surface integrals really worth my sweat and tears?”

“For our major, yes,” Albert says, “Mind if I sit?”

Race waves him off, dropping his head back onto the table, “Go ahead. What’re you doing up so early?”

“Same as you it seems,” Race can hear him taking out his books, “Guess we all got a little behind on calc homework.”

“Guess so,” Race forces himself to sit back up, “I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get?”

“Any of it,” Race feels his stress start to peak, “I haven’t gotten a single fucking problem right and I’ve been here since fucking 8 and really, I don’t know why I did that to myself, ‘cause I was up ‘til god knows when last night dri-” He cuts off, eyeing Albert warily. 

Albert shakes his head, “It’s okay, call me a bad RA, but as long as you all are being safe with it and there are no complaints, do what you want.”

Race nods, “Well, then, yeah. So, I was up ‘til god knows when and now I’m hungover, but I gotta spend more time on this fucking class so I don’t fail this unit, because I’ve never failed a unit of math before and I don’t wanna start now, because then I’ll fail everything and fail out of college and-”

“Whoa,” Albert reaches across the table and places a hand on Race’s forearm, “Slow down, dude, breathe,” he waits for Race to take a deep breath, “It’s going to be alright, man. Everyone’s got a bad unit, doesn’t mean you’re gonna fail it all. Just gotta make a game plan. I’m decent at this stuff if you want some help? I can’t say I’m as good as a TA or something might be, but I can help you get this assignment done.”

Race takes another deep breath, trying not to focus on Albert’s lingering grip on his arm. Albert seems to come back to himself though, because he clears his throat, coloring a little as he squeezes Race’s arm and lets go.

“Sorry,” Race says sheepishly, “Didn’t mean to lose it there.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

And there’s Albert again, putting Race at ease with the tone of his voice alone. Fucking magic, Race swears.

Maybe it’s an RA thing. They all seem to have that scarily open demeanor. Race could never.

“You don’t gotta help me, man,” Race says, “I’d feel bad making you-”

“Don’t,” Albert says, smiling. Jeez, does he ever stop smiling? “You’re not making me do anything, I offered. Plus, I gotta get this shit done, too. We’d really just be doing it together. It’s better practice to go in depth anyway.”

A swell of admiration grips Race and he has to look back down at his notebook to keep from doing something stupid like kiss Albert or something. 

“C’mon,” Albert prompts lightly, scooching so he’s next to Race instead of across from him and knocking their knees together. Race tries not to lean into the touch, “What’s the first problem? 34?”

They work through the math at a steady pace, and with Albert’s instruction (which lacks a certain condescending air that Spot always gets when he tries to help Race out), Race starts to understand the content better. He’ll still need to go to office hours, probably, but for the moment, he feels less panicked. 

By the time they’re finished, their bodies are pressed together from shoulder to thigh, both of them hunched over their work only inches apart. Race tries not to stare, but he can’t help but notice the way Albert bites his lip and narrows his eyes when he’s focused. Even with his guard down, he’s magnetic- effortlessly charming. He must feel Race looking, because he glances up from where he’s completing the final problem. They’re very close- too close, really and Race can see him flick his gaze down to his lips for a second before locking on his eyes. In his peripheral, Race can see his ears color. He’s a blusher, Race has come to realize. It’s kind of precious.

“Thanks,” Race says, unable to stand the growing tension. 

Albert blinks a couple times, eyes clearing, “Yeah, no prob.”

“Like, really, thanks. I get it more now and I’m infinitely less stressed.”

Albert grins, “I’m really glad.”

It’s quiet for another second, then Race shifts, glancing at his watch and realizing he’s done with homework and it’s not even 1:00 pm yet.

“Shit, what time is it,” Albert asks, leaning in again to look at Race’s watch, “Fuck, I have duty in a half hour, I gotta go.”

Race tries not to feel disappointed at the prospect of Albert leaving, “Yeah, I might try to go back to sleep to be honest.”

Albert laughs, “Good plan, drink water.”

“Will do.”

They pack up in silence and walk out of the library, pausing again when they get back to their hall. 

“Obviously fuck math, but I had fun hanging out with you,” Albert says.

Race feels his heartbeat pick up, “I had fun too.”

There’s another pause, this time a little more loaded, then Albert claps him on the shoulder, “Catch those Zs, bro, I’ll see you around.”

“See you.” Race says, waving as Albert begins to head down the hall.

“Don’t forget to eat!”

“I won’t.”

Albert turns around, fixing him with a playfully serious glare, “Promise me, Higgins. Can’t have any residents sick if I have something to do with it.”

Race laughs, “I promise.”

“Good,” Albert winks and Race feels himself blush down to his chest.

3.

“Albert?”

The situation feels oddly flipped when Race walks into Panera to find Albert slumped at a table, head in his hands and knee bouncing rapidly under the table. It’s a Tuesday afternoon and Race figured he’d grab his weekly cup of broccoli cheddar soup before english.

Albert lifts his head from his hands and Race feels his concern grow when he notices the red that rims his eyes. He’s only ever seen Albert cool and collected, but he supposes even freakishly bubbly people have bad days, too.

“Hey, Race,” Albert tries to smile at him, but it falls short, “What’s up? You okay?”

“I’m good,” Race says, “Just grabbing a bite. What about you? Are you okay?”

Albert deflates a little, dropping his eyes down to his laptop, “I’m alright.”

“You sure?” Race ventures. _Fuck it_ , he thinks and sits down, “You’re looking a little stressed. Is something up?”

He sincerely hopes he isn’t pushing boundaries here, but Albert looks like he needs a friend right now. Or maybe a shot of really strong tequila. Or both.

Albert shrugs, letting out a breath. It sounds shaky and shallow. He fixes Race with a self-deprecating smile.

“Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”

“Hey, man, just because you’re an RA doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help or some bullshit. I’m not gonna make you talk to me or anything, that would be shitty, but I’m here for you and so’s everyone else on the floor. If something’s bothering you, then it’s valid and you deserve support.”

Albert has such a starkly vulnerable look in his eyes that Race almost has to look away. The corners of his lips are turned down and his eyes are wide and almost pleading and he looks so goddamn defeated and beautiful at the same time and Race really wants to hug him.

Albert’s jaw shifts and he turns his gaze down towards his hands. His voice cracks a bit when he says, “I’m technically here on a hockey scholarship, right?” Race nods and Albert continues, “And our team is losing national ranking, ‘cause our new coach fucking sucks, so I might lose aspects of that scholarship and my parents can’t pay for my tuition on their own and-” he stops, shaking his head, “I’m scared, I think. I don’t wanna have to drop out or something.”

Race takes a moment to mull over a good response and reaches across the table, hoping he’s been reading their interactions correctly as he places a hand over Albert’s. To his relief (and delight) Albert flips his hand so their fingers are laced together. 

Race squeezes it encouragingly, “I can’t promise you that everything will be alright and I can’t make you false reassurances, but I bet if you talked to the financial aid office, they could help you figure out a plan? But throughout all of this, I’m going to be here for you, alright? Anything you need, just let me know. If that’s a place to talk shit out, I gotchu, but I’m also here if you just need a friend. I’m here for you, Al.”

Albert’s looking at him again, that same vulnerable look on his face, but something else is there a well. Something softer underlying the worry lines on his face.

“Next semester I’m not going to be an RA anymore.” He blurts.

Race blinks, “Alright?”

Albert huffs out a laugh, “Sorry, I mean like,” he shakes himself, starting over, “I like you, Race.”

Race’s stomach jolts, “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Albert says slowly. They’re hands are still linked together and Race can feel Albert’s hand sweating. Or maybe that’s his. Fuck, they both seem keyed up.

“Fuck, I mean, Albert, I like you too. Have since the beginning of the semester,” Race knows he’s talking too fast, but the smile on Albert’s face tells him it doesn’t matter.

“Yeah?” And Albert looks so damn appeased that Race laughs.

“Yeah.”

“So, if I’m not an RA next semester, then we could…”

“You tryna ask me out, Dasilva?” Race asks, a teasing lilt to his tone.

“Eventually, yes I am,” Albert says.

On a whim, Race lifts Albert’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles. 

“After Winter break, I’m taking you to that thai place in town.”

Albert’s smile takes on a genuinity that Race hasn’t seen before, “I’d like that.”

**A month later...**

“Feels good to actually be able to, like, do this shit publicly.”

Race leans in, pressing a kiss to Albert’s chin. They’re in the library, trying to get ahead of their physics homework before it picks up too much. Technically, they’d gotten together after admitting to liking each other last semester, but they weren’t allowed to have a relationship until Albert was out of his RA position.

“Yeah, that was like some star crossed lovers bullshit,” Albert laughs, “Hiding you in my dorm room and stealing kisses in dark hallways.”

“How romantic,” Race teases.

“I know.”

They kiss for real, both leaning into it. Race feels Albert grip his arm right above his elbow, rubbing his thumb in circles around his bicep. In turn, he brushes Albert’s hair behind his ears, tilting his jaw to deepen the kiss.

They pull apart and lean their foreheads together, smiling.

“I’m thinking about becoming an RA next semester,” Race murmurs.

Albert pulls back, looking alarmed until he sees the smirk on Race’s face, “you ass, I actually believed you!”

“Pfft, I wouldn’t do that when we just got this,” Race says, pulling Albert back in and kissing him again, “I like you too much.”

Albert smiles, giddy and exultant, “I like you, too, I think.”

“You think?”

“I know, I think.”

Race swats him, “Be serious and love me.”

They both freeze, the weight of the words they have yet to actually say suddenly hanging in the air.

Albert sobers up, taking Race’s hand, “I do love you. A lot, actually.”

And really, _that’s_ unfair, because sometimes Race still gets so goddamn enamored by Albert and he can’t really believe he actually likes him back and he can feel his face flushing and oh god, he’s not going to revert back to incoherence is he? Oh god-

“Don’t have an aneurysm,” Albert says, kissing his nose, “I love you. That’s all.”

When Race smiles, it feels too big for his face, “I love you, too.”

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, chiefs!  
> feedback is always appreciated


End file.
